When Young Naive Private had first rushed home ranting and raving about a 'Fred', Skipper could honestly say he had been utterly clueless until Kowaski had reminded him about the young brown squirrel.
At first he had brushed off the youngest concerns- It was a squirrel after all, for all he knew the younger had rushed about banging his skull into any solid surface he could locate but after hours of listening to the young Penguins beg, Skipper had finally caved and decided to do a little 'Investigation'.
He had expected to find said squirrel with head stuck in a pipe, his tail lodged in his brain or even passed out. What he hadn't expected to find was a ruined home, obvious signs of a fight and stuggle, and no Fred the Squirrel to be seen.
"This was diffentally a kidnapping Boys."
And wasn't that a mystery in itself. Who in their sane mind would kidnap a squirrel? Everyone knew the furred mammals where as dumb as rocks, with the rare execption of The Red Squirrel.
Why would anyone want to kidnap that?
Let alone Fred who picked his brian with his tail and only won a fight against the Lemeur King; Julian out of pure stupidity.
Still...
Kidnaped Fred was. Right out of their own province without any of them being any the wiser. If not for Private's fondness with brown squirrel it was highy unlikely they ever would have noticed.
"Kowalski, Options. Rico, bag the evidence. Private, stand there and look extra cute. "
It was intolerable.
Keeping his back against the brick wall, the chocolate eyed mammal took a deep breath trying to calm his rapid heartbeat to no avail. It felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any moment, not that he could fault it considering his current placement.
Hiding in a dirty ally from a physcotic penguin- with far too many issue to be counted- tended to cause anyone to panic after all.
Still he was so close...
Just a little more- less then half a mile- and he would be safe..
"There you are."
Eyes widening the younger pushed himself away from the wall, spinning on heel to run away from the source of the voice.
Bam!
For a moment he wasn't quite sure how he ended up on the ground, shattered glass cutting into his body before his mind registered the pain cursing from his lower back.
"Not this time," He could hear the footstep moving in slowly like a predator already certain of the kill, even as he tried to push himself up.
He had to get up. He had to run, but it hurt so much.
Every breath, every slight twitch of his muscles felt like a thousand pin needle where being stabbed through him. And that growing puddle of crimson below him wasn't helping.
Was this what his Uncle felt every time he was shoot and dragged himself home? How did the elder thrive in a life like this?
Gritting his teeth, Fred forced himself to his knees only to look up into a pair of sharp emerald eyes.
"Good Night."
He never even got a chance to scream.
Missing.
His beloved nephew.
The last reminder of his brother.
Sweet, naïve, innocent Fred.
This had that Bastard's name written all over it, of that the rouge was willingly to bet his life on.
How dare he?!
The rouge could feel the rage building under his skin along with a newly found urge to strangle certain tea drinking bastards with their own intestines.